


The Schooling of Gentlemen

by shimere277



Category: Drake's Venture (1980)
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:18:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimere277/pseuds/shimere277
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drake is sure that gentlemen are hiding a secret…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Schooling of Gentlemen

            They all have the same smile, these gentlemen, the same gesture when they open a door, the same innate knowledge of when to stand their ground and for whom to step aside.  It’s something Drake, born into the yeoman class but raised in poverty, fumbles constantly when in the presence of his betters.  He imagines that there’s an enclave someplace, at Cambridge, perhaps, where they are trained.  
            When he is bored, his mind drifts off to the details.  Perhaps they are whistled for, like trained dogs, given a treat when they perform.  What sort of treat would one give a gentleman – a preferment? A commission?  A silk stocking?  He has a mental image of one such gentleman, kneeling and begging like an eager puppy, as the Earl of Essex dangles a silk stocking in front of him.  It’s his new friend Thomas Doughtie.  Despite himself, Drake grins, and the lady next to him at the table looks at him oddly.  
            One night, Drake is missing the sea, or rather missing the customs of the sea, for if he were on the water there would be a cabin boy near to hand who knew his duties.  The training of a cabin boy was swift and brutal, probably most unlike the training of a gentleman.  Drake watches Thomas undress, wonders if that sort of training was also included.  Thomas certainly wouldn’t drop his breeches around his ankles and grimace, bracing himself against a wall.  No, he would remove his stockings elegantly, like he was doing now.  He would lay across the bed, spreading his legs, head thrust back, spine arched, presenting himself.  Even in this he would know his worth.  
            It makes Drake crazy.  It makes him crazy that he can’t ask, and that he doesn’t know the right suggestion, the right command to unlock the gentleman’s submission.  At sea, a particular gaze at his object would get him what he desired.  There had to be something of the sort here, some secret code Drake can’t crack.  The more he thinks about it, the more he is certain.  
            Throughout their time in Ireland, Drake’s fancies become more elaborate.  He decides that it happens in Italy – the gentlemen are sent to Italy for their training.  They don’t just learn to submit; they learn the most exotic arts of pleasure.  They learn fellatio.  Drake’s familiar with the word, but never experienced it – it’s something no proper Englishman would do.  At least it’s something no mariner would do, but who knows about these Italianate gentlemen?  Drake imagines Thomas kneeling between his legs.  
            Later, on board the _Pelican_, when he is certain Doughtie has betrayed him, Drake’s fantasies become more brutal.  The gentlemen aren’t rewarded with dainties – they’re punished.  Drake imagines Doughtie tied up and lashed, tears streaming down his face.  It’s a fantasy that could become reality, at this rate.  
            Drake is more and more certain that Doughtie will have to die, and that he will never know the word, the phrase, the gesture that will get him what he wants: Doughtie’s complete and total obedience.  Doughtie is going to die, and Drake will never take the pleasure of that perfect arse he’s been staring at for the past four years.  
            He could rape the gentleman; it isn’t likely anyone would stop him, but that isn’t what he wants at all.  And when the trial is done, he suspects that he can bargain with Doughtie for his life – _submit to me and I will commute the death sentence_.  But that isn’t what Drake wants either.  He wants Thomas, naked and collared, falling to his knees whenever Drake enters the room.  He wants Thomas to lick his boots, and then to look up eagerly, awaiting the next command.  He wants Thomas to _like_ it.  
            They sit at dinner, Doughtie’s last meal.  The gentleman is talking wistfully about the past.  Drake isn’t sure if Doughtie is playing for sympathy, or if he’s really nostalgic.  Drake is unmoved.  He never got what he wanted from their friendship, the promise of love was never fulfilled.  He doubts Thomas ever loved him in the first place.  If so, how could he betray their mutual dream of sailing the Pacific?  How could he fail so totally to understand?  
            Drake expects Doughtie to play for time, but it’s the gentleman who finishes the meal first.  Since they took communion, Doughtie has been dreamy, mystical, looking away from life.  He’s ready now, ready to go to a better place.  A part of Drake is in agreement – get it over with, while the mariners are still resolved, while his nerves, his anger are still focused on the aim.  But another part of him itches with insatiable curiosity.  He has to ask.  
            He takes Doughtie aside, into his tent.  “Thomas, tell me of the matter of your Italian studies.”  
            Doughtie seems mildly surprised at the incongruity of the query with the occasion.  “I read the classics and looked at the painting of the masters,” he replies.  
            “And naught else?” Drake presses.  
            “I suppose I did learn a number of fashionable dances and new games of cards,” says the gentleman.  “Also did I taste of the foods of the Italians, which are far different prepared than those of England.  Most delightful.”  
            Drake is frustrated.  He knows Thomas is being evasive.  He doesn’t know the right question to disclose the mystery.  Thomas is grinning now, in a manner most unseemly for a gentleman about to meet his death in a few short minutes.  As ever, he knows how to get to Drake.  
            A tense minute passes.  Drake’s face grows red.  “What is the secret of the schooling of gentlemen?” he blurts out, finally.  
            “Topping from below,” says Thomas Doughtie.

 


End file.
